


A Pirate's Life for Him

by generallythere19



Series: Multichapter Stories [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Lieutenant Killian Jones, Pirate Emma Swan, Role Reversal, Stranded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generallythere19/pseuds/generallythere19
Summary: Lieutenant Killian Jones loathes pirates. Captain Emma Swan loathes the navy. As fate would have it, they end up stranded on an island together, neither knowing that they were hunting the other.





	1. Emma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm great at starting new stories but terrible at finishing them. So I'm going to make a resolution with this one: I will update it once a week without fail. It doesn't matter when in the week but once every week I will update it, I swear. In any case, I hope you like it :)
> 
> Huge thanks to [Kate (aka spacewhales)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewhales) for being an incredible beta!

Emma woke up on a sandy shore. On any other day, she would have been dissatisfied with this development but after braving that terrible storm, she was more than thankful to have washed ashore. Her limbs could just barely hold her up, her head spinning from severe dehydration; her skin felt as if it was on fire from sunburn. Pulling herself up, she stumbled towards the forest before her with vision that oscillated between clear and cloudy. The first bush she found didn’t appear to have any berries to sate her. Trying to muster up the energy to groan, she moved on, trudged ahead with her head low.

Pushing aside leaves, she emerged into a clearing. Unable to believe her luck, she saw a sort of banquet laid out before her. The wave of relief she felt, filled her legs with new energy and she made her way to the fish and berries spread out on leaves on the ground. She could see remains of a fire and guessed the meat was safe to eat. Without wasting a moment, she took a bite out of the fish. Any other day, she would have considered it bland beyond belief but today, if anyone had asked, she would have assured them it was the best thing she had ever had the privilege to eat.

When she was finished, Emma reached into her vest for her flask out of habit. When she realised it wasn’t there, her face fell. She had to remind herself that she was lucky even to be alive. The thought gave her only false happiness. Now that she was sated, her thoughts flashed back to what felt like weeks ago, even though it had only been a few hours. It was the only storm she had failed to outrun - and the only one terrible enough to be a worthy opponent. The guilt of subjecting the entire crew to such a cruel fate -- although she had always maintained that a storm was the sailor’s way to die -- crushed her.

She woke up to the ship rocking so hard, she was nearly thrown off the bed. Before she could even get to the door, a gust of wind threw it open. The rain followed, the drops stinging her face. Grabbing onto anything she could, she heaved herself onto the deck, eyes sweeping across the ship. There was only one word to describe this situation: chaos. Nobody had noticed her arrival onto the deck. She caught hold of one of the crew and turned him around, shouting over the howling wind.

“What’s the status?”

“She’s flooding! The men are saying it won’t be long before we go under,” he shouted back and, although his voice rang true, his eyes betrayed him. He feared death. Emma didn’t blame him.

She made her way to the helm, barking orders, hoping that they could hear her over the storm. She attempted to turn the wheel and managed three degrees before the next wave washed over the ship, causing her to lose footing and slip away, the wheel turning starboard, throwing the crew port side with its sudden movement. She pulled herself up.

“She groans louder each time, Captain! The next time we’re hit, she won’t stand,” another crewman said. This statement brought tears to Emma’s eyes, which she hastily wiped away, hoping the crew didn’t notice. She knew it was true. But she refused to believe it. 

“I don’t care,” she replied. “We will fight this storm. We owe her that.” She uttered the last sentence quieter, more to herself than anyone else.

She ran around, barking orders at the crew, grabbed Elsa and asked her to relay orders to the crew. Elsa did as directed and the crew began listened. Some of them pulling the sail and trying to tie it down. Several crew mounted the rigging and struggled to furl the sails. Another scaled the main mast to the crow’s nest, hoping to catch a glimpse of sun through the heavy squall. For a split second, with Emma behind the wheel, she actually thought they may survive this yet. But then they were hit again. She wasn’t prepared for the wave and so, when the water washed onto deck, she slipped, hitting the wall on the other edge forecastle rail, knocking the air out of her. She groaned, feeling Elsa pull her up. She mustered up a smile of gratitude.

“We’re not going to survive, are we?” Elsa said.

“With a ridiculous amount of luck, we might. But she won’t,” Emma said, glancing up at the main mast. “Well, in any case, you’ll survive. I’m going down with my ship.” Emma added, hoping Elsa wouldn’t hear.

“Emma, you can’t…” Elsa protested, evidently having heard what Emma said, her eyes wide with worry and fear that Emma would follow through with her promise.

“A captain always goes down with her ship,” Emma said, her heart beating even faster when she said it out loud. It‘s one thing to know something but actually telling someone that she was on a suicide mission was entirely another. It was real now.  Elsa stared at her, speechless.

The next wave hit, and Emma was freefalling.

That was all she remembered. She suspected that, at some point, she must have been struck unconscious. She wasn’t even sure how she had ended up on this shore. But she didn’t have time to think about either because the next thing she knew, she heard footsteps approaching and a man appeared in the clearing. Before Emma had time to react, she found herself at the end of a sword. The worst part, though: she knew him.

 


	2. Killian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to alternate between Emma and Killian's POV (in third person but still) with each chapter. Maybe somewhere down the line there'll be two Emma/Killian chapters consecutively but I haven't decided yet. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Killian’s faith in his older brother had always remained the unwavering force in his life. However, now that he was standing on a sandy shore, weak, in once-military clothing (now tattered rags), he felt bitter about trusting him. He had known it was a bad idea to go towards the storm. Especially after the pirates had attacked them and then gone in the opposite direction. Part of him knew that being mad at Liam was one of the ways he was dealing (or rather, _not_ dealing) with his probable death. But he would rather feel angry than the unending guilt that would ensue should he attempt to come to terms with his brother’s death.

Killian couldn’t remember how he had ended up on the shore. The last thing he did remember was she incessant shouting (or was it the wind howling?) as everyone tried giving orders, ultimately doing whatever they wanted to. Liam was trying to take back control but the crew had gone berserk, refusing to listen to the man who was leading them towards the storm. Killian understood their plight but took Liam’s side regardless, personally approaching each crew member and relaying the orders his brother had given. Some obeyed, others didn’t.

It wasn’t long before Killian realised that they were doomed. The ship was beginning to fall apart; the sail had come undone and was flapping in the wind, completely out of control. The crew were all scuttling around trying to stay alive. But what scared Killian more than anything was Liam’s reaction. He remembered a time when, even in the face of a crisis, his brother stayed calm and collected. Killian hadn’t realised, until this very moment, that Liam had been staying calm for both of them. But now that they were staring death in the face, he stood frozen in spot, jerking back to reality only when the ship groaned.

The next wave crashed, pushing Killian to the edge. He felt strong arms grab him before he actually hit the edge and, once the water had passed, realised that it was Liam.

“Careful, little brother,” he said, pulling Killian close to him. Killian nodded, Liam’s steady voice calming him a little. Liam looked around, evidently distraught by the effect of the storm and then, looking back at Killian said, “You need to jump off.”

“What?”

“It’s your only chance at surviving this storm, Killian.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Killian said, a little upset that his brother would even think that he would abandon him.

“Killian, I’m trying to give you your best shot. Remember what I said: we are survivors. But as a captain, I have to go down with my ship. You don’t have any such obligation,” Liam said with such earnest that Killian almost felt compelled to jump off. Instead, he said, “So you’d rather I die in the stormy sea than on a slippery deck?”

“You won’t die at sea, I swear it.”

“How can you be so certain?” Killian asked, his eyes narrowing at this promise.

“I can’t tell you. Please, do as I say,” Liam replied, only increasing Killian’s suspicion. He shook his head firmly and said, “I will not abandon you, brother.”

“Then take this,” Liam pulled off the giant ring he wore on his hand. Killian had never presumed to ask where came from - he figured it was a souvenir of one of Liam’s flings from the few weeks they spent on land. But him taking off the ring amplified his curiosity tenfold. He put on the ring - it was loose. For the first time in hours (and possibly for the last time), Killian saw Liam smile. He took off the chain he wore and gave that to Killian too. Putting the ring on the chain, Killian put it on, the feeling of ice cold metal against his chest sending shivers down his spine.

“Forgive me, little brother,” Liam said before Killian could ask for the ring’s significance. He frowned, confused when he felt something hit him from behind and fell, blacking out.

“Goodbye, Killian,” Liam’s voice was fuzzily registered as Killian felt himself wake up a little. He didn’t remember anything after that.

Now, standing on the shore, he stared at the sea, longing to return to the ship - to his brother; to home. His hand went up to his neck, pulling the ring out. It glinted in the strong sunlight as he turned it over between his fingers, wondering if he’d ever know what had happened to the man who had given it to him. He felt a sudden urge to rip it off and throw it into the ocean - to where his brother was. Instead he let it drop from his hand, letting it bounce off his chest once before it hung in silence. It was then that he realised his thirst and hunger. It was then that he realised how weak he felt. How close his legs were to giving way beneath him. For the first time he looked around at the beach: practically white, the sand sparkling in the harsh sun, the trees that fringed the forest swaying with the light breeze. There were rocks in the edge near him and he saw something glint at him - stuck between the rocks.

Approaching the metal, he used what felt like the last of his strength to pull it out: a sword. He stared at it in wonder - it was a little worn thanks to the rock but could still cut through flesh with ease. The scabbard was lying nearby too, half-sunken in the sand. He freed it with little difficulty and sheathed the sword, thankful for a weapon on this unknown land. He then made his way towards the forest, his stomach growling and his head spinning. He felt like a blind animal running headfirst into danger but once he started walking, he couldn’t stop. He knew if he did, he would fall - a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

He could see a clearing up ahead and approached cautiously, hand on sword in case he needed to draw it. He emerged into the clearing and saw someone. He didn’t even see their face but drew his sword regardless, holding it out at them.


	3. Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma stared at him in confused curiosity. She didn’t remember why or how she knew him. She didn’t even remember who he was. And yet, there was a familiarity to him that she couldn’t place. The longer she looked, the worse the nagging feeling in her gut became. He pulled her out of her thoughts when he asked, “Who are you?”
> 
> “Swan. Emma Swan,” she responded. “And you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I'd update once a week but apparently I'm the worst when it comes to resolutions. I'm sorry! 
> 
> Anyway, since I did finally update, I hope you like it!

Emma stared at him in confused curiosity. She didn’t remember why or how she knew him. She didn’t even remember who he was. And yet, there was a familiarity to him that she couldn’t place. The longer she looked, the worse the nagging feeling in her gut became. He pulled her out of her thoughts when he asked, “Who are you?”

“Swan. Emma Swan,” she responded. “And you?”

“Lieutenant Killian Jones,” he said, rather pompously, evidently proud of having the title. She almost wanted to mock him but thought better of it, considering her current position. Instead, fighting the bitter taste any mention of military brought to her mouth, she said, “a military man?”

“The royal navy, to be precise,” he replied, only making the bitterness worse. She fought rolling her eyes and instead pretended to be impressed. But the only thing she could think of was the fact that his last name was Jones and that again rang with familiarity.

“I see,” she said, noticing him fight a smile at her wordplay and feeling a tad proud herself for it. She knew if Elsa had been here, she would have scolded her for the terrible joke. Her face fell slightly, thinking of Elsa and how she probably wouldn't see her again.

Once again, the lieutenant before her brought her out of her reverie, “and what might your title be, my lady? If you have one.”

“I... don't,” Emma lied. She did have a title but she wasn't going to tell him just yet. After all, if he was in the royal navy, she had likely ambushed one of his ships.

“My father was a farmer. I grew up on the farm,” she continued, deciding on a small, white lie.

“Ah,” he said, resheathing his sword, clearly not considering the daughter of a farmer a threat. It was then that he looked down at the spread and she noticed his eyes widen considerably. He looked back at her and asked, “may I?”

“Please,” Emma replied, her eye on his sword, now that her hunger had been sated. He sat down and helped himself. It was only then that Emma realised that he had asked _her_ for permission before eating. Her brow furrowed; this wasn't his campsite--and it wasn't hers. So who did it belong to? She was about to ask him when he said, “Are you a resident of this land, Miss Swan?”

“No. I arrived a few hours ago,” she said.

“You don't mean...” his chewing slowed as he looked at her curiously before continuing. “Were you victim to the same storm as I?”

She nodded.

“So that means... if you survived... you don't suppose there could be other survivors?” He asked and this time Emma didn't reply. She shrugged and looked away. She had learned a long time ago about the dangers of false hope.

“What was a farmer's daughter doing on the high seas anyway?”

“I've always loved the sea. Land is too... constricting. Wouldn't you agree? I mean, you're in the royal navy, after all,” she said, a slight smile playing along her lips which only appeared when speaking of home.

Killian must have noticed because he smiled too and said, “Aye. I understand one's love for the open water.”

There was a silence which Emma finally broke, “Do you think this is an island?”

“I hope not. If it's an island we could be stranded. Of course, I could have worse company,” he said, a rather boyish smile on his face. Emma's eyebrows rose in surprise at this open flirtation.

“You're awfully chipper for a man who just lost everything he owned.”

“The only thing worse than being stranded is being stranded _alone,_ Miss Swan,” he replied, popping the last of the berries into his mouth. He stretched once and announced, “I have a proposition.”

“I'm listening.”

“We should find out if this is an island. We can canvass the land, starting tomorrow at sunrise. We may even find a village in this apparent mess of trees. And, maybe, we'll even find crewmen,” he said and, although Emma didn't want to admit it, it was a marginally better idea than the one she had: stealing his sword, slitting his throat, and escaping in the dark of night. After all, misery does love company.

“That's... actually a good plan.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well I didn't realise lieutenants did much besides following the Captain's orders,” she said, a smug smile playing along her lips in spite of her attempt to appear casual. His eyes narrowed in warning when she said this (although, he could have simply been squinting in the sun).

“Do you dislike the navy, Swan?” He asked, trying to seem nonchalant. But, the absence of the “Miss” that preceded the “Swan” was evidence of her striking a nerve.

“What gives you that idea, Jones?” She asked in response. It was her turn to attempt at nonchalance with, what she hoped, was a casual raise of an eyebrow.

“Well, you didn't exactly seem too companionable when I mentioned being in the navy.”

“I apologize for not jumping with joy when you revealed your rank. But, unless your title can protect us from whatever dangers this forest contains, I'm afraid it doesn't mean anything to me,” she replied, receiving an eye-roll in response.

“Besides, I don't imagine this campsite's owner will be too pleased to see all their food gone,” she added, as if as an afterthought, watching him for a reaction. At first, it didn't seem to register that this campsite wasn't hers. After a few moments of staring at nothing, he seemed to jerk back to reality, now staring at her, wide-eyed. The gaze brought a smile to her face but what followed erased it completely; without a word, he keeled over.

“Jones?”

No response.

“Lieutenant?”

Silence.

“Killian!” She finally cried out of desperation. The fact that he was still breathing brought her some relief but even that feeling disappeared when she realised that her vision was blackening. A few blinks later, the forest had become a haze and her head was spinning. She felt her eyelids force themselves shut. With her cushion as the wet earth, she fell asleep.


	4. Killian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I swear I'm going to _try_ updating on a weekly basis from now on because I sort of have a schedule??? But I'm also going to be travelling a lot so I guess a lot of 3am writing will happen (which is 100% fine by me lmao). 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like the chapter! It is the start of many captain swan references lol

Killian awoke in a cell, his head pounding and his eyes working to adjust to the murky darkness. There was a stream of light coming in from... a window? Unable to tell, he looked around for some sign of Emma. He could see a figure lying in a foetal position, evidently unconscious, and a wave of relief washed over him– he wasn't alone. Approaching her, he shook her gently and whispered, “Miss Swan?”

A moment later, a soft groan escaped her lips and her eyelids fluttered open, as she blinked furiously to adjust to the darkness. He stepped away, giving her space to realise their current situation. She sat up, one hand going to her head, glaring at the prison they were in through narrowed eyes. She finally looked at him and said, “Where are we?”

“I'm afraid I am no wiser than you, Miss Swan,” he replied, eliciting a resigned huff from her as she stood up, stretching a little before going towards the patch of light that just barely illuminated the cell. He thought back to the events that unfolded before waking up here and a realisation hit him.

“It wasn't yours.”

“Pardon?” She asked without turning to look at him.

“The campsite. It wasn't yours,” he repeated and this time she looked at him. Her face was carefully expressionless making it impossible to tell whether she felt any guilt for not sharing such a vital detail.

“What gave it away?”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I did. Right before you fell unconscious. I apologise for not mentioning it earlier than that but I didn't expect the food I ate to be laced with poison,” she said, looking back up, her eyes widening at what she saw. Curious, he joined her and looked up– there was a hole in the roof which was allowing light in--moonlight in.

“We need to escape as soon as we can,” Emma said, her voice tinged with familiar authority. Killian frowned, unable to understand why the daughter of a farmer would have any experience with authority , but agreed.

“And how to do you propose we do that?” He asked and, much to his surprise and amusement, Emma reached up to her hair. She groped around it a bit, her eyes widening with excitement when she found what she had been looking for in her complex braid. She pulled out what appeared to be a hairpin – Killian recalled his mother using those when she had to go to a  formal event. The memory brought a combination of fondness and pain when he thought about it. He turned his attention back to Emma as she went to the bars, her face lighting up when she looked at the lock holding the bars in place.

“Pardon me, Miss Swan, but are you by any chance, planning to pick the lock?”

“Do you have a better plan, lieutenant?” She replied and Killian could sense her impatience. He held out his hand towards the lock, motioning for her to continue. As if to put his skepticism at ease, inserting the pin into the lock, she said, “don't worry, I've done this before,” and then, more to herself than him, “it's all about the tumblers.”

In the oppressive silence of the cell, the click of the lock opening was loud and jarring to Killian's ears. And yet, watching the door and its bars swing open was the happiest he had been since arriving on this godforsaken land. Emma clearly agreed with him because she stepped back to admire her handiwork, smiling with pride. He realised this was the first real smile he had seen on her and it warmed him strangely to see it – the way her face suddenly seemed much brighter in this darkness than it had during the day when they met. For a few moments he was mesmerised (as he had a feeling he would be again and again) by this side of her.

Exiting the cell, Killian soon realised that theirs was not the only cell. Instead there was an elaborate tunnel system wherever they were trapped. It was an underground labyrinth with torches lighting the paths. He supposed that this was so that, they wouldn't be able to escape even if they got out of the cell.

“Which way?” Emma asked, when they arrived at a fork in the labyrinth after walking for ... how long, he couldn't tell.

“Isn't the rule to always go left in a labyrinth?” Killian said, looking to his left: there was no horizon – the tunnel simply disappeared into darkness.

“While I have heard the same thing, there appears to be a patch of light on the right,” she replied and he looked – there was.

She looked at him questioningly and he said, “After you.”

They approached the patch of light and heard voices coming from above. They spoke in a strange tongue. Even stranger was the fact that Killian seemed to understand what they were saying. He only understood a few words here and there but it was enough to know that one of them was going to come down here. He grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her aside, towards the corner, keeping them out of the light. Her back hit the wall as Killian stood beside her, his arm over her. As if out of instinct he pulled her towards his chest and again was hit with the memory of Liam doing the same to him many moons ago on the slave ship.

“What the--” she began angrily before a ladder of rope dropped from the hole in the ceiling. Her words died out and they stood there, holding their breath as a woman descended from above. Without so much as a glance in their direction she walked off , in the opposite direction and, once she turned the corner, Killian felt his chest loosen along with his grip on Emma. His arm dropped as he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his heartbeat.

“Did you understand what they were saying, lieutenant?” Emma asked him after a few moments of silence.

“Aye. They spoke of checking on the prisoners. I assumed they meant us,” he replied.

“How did you know the language?”

“You'd be surprised what they teach you in the royal navy,” he said, flashing her a smile and noticing the ghost of one on her lips that she was trying to fight. Approaching the ladder, he pulled on it once, hard. It stayed. He nodded at Emma, a smile now slowly forming on her lips. This one, however, was tinged with the same sadness that the previous smiles had had.

“Brilliant. Now, let's leave before anybody realises we're--” she was cut off by a scream echoing through the tunnels. They both froze.

“That's our cue,” Killian said, pushing her gently towards the ladder. She scrambled up in a matter of moments and, after one sweeping glance at the labyrinth they dared not explore, he followed.


End file.
